No Roads Left
by Anathma
Summary: Monkey D. Dragon's story as I see it. Includes Dragon's childhood, teenage years and early adulthood, Luffy's mother, Luffy's birth, Dragon's reasons for starting the revolutionary army, meetings with various characters, on and off cannon and the Roger pirates.
1. Prologue: Yellowbirds

**AN: Here is my first fanfic. I've posted the prologue and the first chapter at the same time, after that the updates will be one chapter only. Reviews are always welcome but no flames. Constructive critism is the best. I might have some long sentences and if the point of them is lost to anyone just point it out. Will be greatly appreciated!**

 **Also, I have looked both of these over myself - I don't have beta - so if there are mistakes you could point them out too. More notes at the end of the prologue.**

 **Enjoy!**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own One Piece or its characters. My own OCs and the plot in this one, though, I do own. Everything else belongs to Eiichiro Oda.**

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Prologue  
 _Yellowbirds_

The muddy ground clenched its wrists under the stained grass. Moist dropped in triplets from the bending leaves and the sky was covered in grayish cloud blanket. It had stopped raining about an hour ago, but it had been an unusual rain, and so the mud stayed.

There, in a wide cliff from where broadened a sight down to the green forest, which might have been grand had not the weather been so upsetting, stood a young boy with unkempt piano-black hair in sandy black trousers and a shirt. In front of the boy was a simple grave, consisting of only round marble rock that was not bothered to hone to its prime, and a name. Some flowers where laid down next to and in front of the grave, but all of them were ruined by the rain.

It had been a while since it had last been sunny. A whole two long weeks to be precise. Of course it hadn't rained all the while - mostly it had been ruefully cloudy. It wasn't even the pretty kind of cloudy when it was still clear and white during the day even though the sun wasn't shining. It was the dark and foul and not-so-sure-if-it-is-a-day-or-night cloudy. And there were beautiful varieties of that kind of cloudy too, but, as mentioned, none of them were in question.

It had all started with the death of one of the townsfolk of the village. She had been a thirty-something year old woman, still fairly pretty and proud. She had been strict, caring, moody and menacing female entity, and people of the village had loved her, some more, some less.

When she and her now widowed husband had been declared to get married none were able to come up with a better mix. The husband was outrageous and carefree, living sternly by his own rules (although, being most of the time out in the world working as a marine) and laughing usually when one should have been (by all the goddamn common sense) serious. It was quietly, and sometimes not so quietly, mused how it was a relief that someone finally put that happy-go-lucky no-good into his place.

And then she had died.

She hadn't died alone, though. But it wasn't her husband who was at her side when the time came. It wasn't the doctor or anyone else of the villagers either. It was her son. Yes, the same son who stood at that muddy cliff now alone, staring into the jungle.

Other villagers who had come to the funeral had left over an hour ago, a little before the rain had stopped. None had said a single thing to the boy that whole evening, before, during nor after the funeral and burial. There were whispers and glances, and half-thought feelings of somewhat weird guilt but none of these reached the boy.

According to the boy, if you hurt an animal once, it would never trust you again. He didn't know much, as he was still inexperienced and not to mention young, but this he knew for a fact. Which was why he didn't understand the villagers. His mother had been and his father still was fairly well liked, but he, their sole son was avoided. He hadn't really done anything to them. Sure, he was rather wild and should it be said, raw, to the world, but that wasn't any different from the other children of his age that he had seen. It just didn't dawn to him how exactly he was different.

Frankly, he wasn't very fond of the townsfolk because of this. This, and the fact that now he was practically alone. His mother had died and his father was all the while who knew where. He wasn't even in the whole wretched funeral. One of a father _he_ had - the geezer didn't even show up home when his wife died.

Couple of birds springing out of the forest disturbed the boy's pace of thought and for the first time in half a quarter he moved his gaze. The birds swirled and danced around each other up and down readily moving higher. A moment the boy followed the chirping duet, until a rustle from the forest behind him reached his ears.

There was a moment of waiting before anything happened.

"So you were here after all," thirty-something year old Garp walked to the boy.

The boy huffed.

"Where else?" He said. Garp didn't seem to notice the accusing tone in his son's voice or if he did, then he paid it no mind.

"Home, for example," the marine countered looking down at his son who still hadn't moved from his place and had returned his gaze back at whatever it was that he was looking at before the birds appeared.

"The burial just ended." The boy said sharply.

"Yes," Garp returned while he placed a bunch of yellowbirds in front of the grave. "An hour ago." He turned at his son. "And you're still here."

The boy looked for the first time in a year at his father and frowned. It felt weird having to look so upward. He swore, his father was just too ridiculously huge. "Where were you?"

Garp sighed. "On my way. It takes time to reach Goa Kingdom from the Grand line in such a short notice."

"You were contacted three weeks ago." The boy insisted.

Garp bent down so that he was closer to the same eye level with the boy. "I know, Dragon, I know. And I don't like it any better than you do."

The boy moved his gaze back to the forest in front of him and said no other word.

Garp sighed again, and awkwardly tried smiling sincerely. "It's getting late," he said. "We should get back."

Dragon glanced at his father, and before making eye contact snapped his head back and merely nodded.

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 **If someone has problems with the way I switch between the words 'jungle' and 'forest' the explanation is that you really can't tell which one it is in the manga/anime. I mean, it has bears and tigers. The trees most of the time resemble a forest but the climate is jungle. I mean come on, Oda XD**

 **So I decided that it's a little bit of both.**

 **Yellowbirds is a flower, by the way, if anyone got confused. I have drawn it and the picture can be found in my tumblr. The link can be found in my profile.**

 **I actually like Dragon's mother so it's a shame that she doesn't get to appear. Her name will be mentioned later on, but it's no secret so I can already tell that it's Deliya.**

 **More notes at the end of chapter one.**


	2. Chapter 1: Jacky Wall

**Disclaimer: I do not own One Piece or its characters. My own OCs and the plot in this one, though, I do own. Everything else belongs to Eiichiro Oda.**

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Chapter One  
 _Jacky Wall_

 **6 years after prologue  
Dawn Island, Goa kingdom,  
Near Windmill village**

A rock splashed off and on the water in what seemed an endless circle until it blobbed underwater. This repeated, with new rocks splashing and blotching on the surface while creating gentle vibrations of waves.

It was hot. But it wasn't the steaming hot. It was dry and dirty and you-want-to-do-everything-but-work hot. Thankfully the jungle had more than enough shadowy places, like under this great astrocaryum jauari, for example. The tree offered a much-welcomed oasis from the heat and best of all, was conveniently located near a river.

The day hadn't started in any snug way. First, Dragon had got a cozy wake up call from a rock that had been thrown into his room through the window. Pleasantly, that same rock had been covered with cloth and inside was at least a dozen fire ants. Pray tell how it was possible to get them there.

Second, cockroaches had decided that Dragon's breakfast cereals were the perfect place to lay eggs. Without a muttered word he had swiftly decided he could drink some juice and had moved to another side of the kitchen after getting rid of the cockroach cereal conquest.

Third, while he had been pouring his juice and being mentally busy cursing every possible vermin there is, reading his drink had come to a halt, as the door had broken open and in had run a mouse, a cat and a dog in that precise order. Dragon had stayed frozen in his position as he had listened to the crashes, scratches, meows, chirps and barks echoing throughout the house.

After listening to this about half of a grittingly painful hour, Dragon had finished pouring his juice, drank and spent the next four quarters of the clock running and falling and crashing into things in a less than planned attempt to capture all three invaders. Afterwards as Dragon had stood on the front porch of his house he had concluded that further loitering around his living area would have only made the damage more grave. So he had headed for the woods surrounding Mt Corvo.

Now, sitting at the river Dragon came to the deduction that somehow all the pranks of the morning had been done by Brent and his so-called-gang. The four thugs had been on Dragon's neck for years already just because he was 'weird', not even understanding what the word meant when they heard it from the adults' mouth. That's how children are - always mimicking adults in everything they do.

Dragon threw another rock.

Now there's something he did not understand. Why the hell did they do that? Imitating others like they wouldn't have their own minds and ended up acting like fools and idiots in the process. Devil help if Dragon was forced to behave like that - hell would sooner freeze over.

He threw another rock.

That was when babbling and giggling echoed from the upriver. Dragon hoisted his head towards the sound and after identifying at least one of the voices as one from the aforementioned Brent's so-called-gang's members', he decided to leave the rocks and move on down the river. Or better yet, away from the river.

He wasn't scared or anguished himself over facing the quartet or anything like that, it was just plain too much pain in the ass. They would flaunt and swamp and bark and mock and stir each other and everything else as uneventful that Dragon didn't have time nor resilience for. Which, of course, didn't mean that he would have that eventful day ahead of him either.

Because there really wasn't anything to do. He had explored the jungle pretty much completely already, sometimes even getting lost and having to be forced to spend the night under the starry night sky (or cloudy, if the weather happened to be bad, which for some twisted fate it was most of the time, and we're not even going to discuss how regularly it rained). He had even done a longer trip to the other mountains once, since there wasn't anyone denying him the access to go and no one to start panicking when he didn't show up for supper. He had hiked supposedly two third of Mt Ivaril and Mt Menner in three years of time and hadn't really found anything worth going back for.

Albeit, there was one place Dragon could at the moment go.

The Grey Terminal. This was one place that Dragon hadn't got fed up with yet - there always happened something, especially when the daily trash cargo came in, and sometimes even new people moved there, or rather, were forced to. You never knew what interesting stories they had to tell (although, you never could know which of them were actually true, alike) and what you would find from the gradually growing pile of junk - who knew - sometimes you found things that actually had value (which was rare, granted, as the denizens were constantly going through that same pile).

But you could always have hope.

Of course, the Grey Terminal had real thugs as a down side. And compared to these thugs, the Brent's were like flies. Although at the same time they weren't even really strong. With fast enough legs (and small body, as the thugs tended to be rather big for reason or another) you were able to swiftly get away without breaking a sweat most of the time. You had to have merely courage.

Talking about speed, it didn't help long after you grew older. Partly that's why Dragon trained daily in the jungle. (The other part of the reason was his old man with whom Dragon had the same problem as with the Terminal's thugs, only worse as the geezer even had agility.) The bears, wolves and other animals proved a surprisingly good ground for basic training, as did the differing terrain. The encounters with Brent and his gang and some other children of the village, as well as with the some people in Grey Terminal, added to this training menu and lined a pretty good circle of his every day routine. Though, it was nowhere near enough to even partway counter his father. But it was something.

After deliberating his choices of next destination, Dragon decided on the Grey Terminal. He began moving up the mountain and while he was at it, resolved to get some training done on the way.

Dragon always stayed away from the roads and paths that had carved their standing in the jungle with time. He knew that the mountain bandits used them and really didn't care to encounter them. Also there rarely was any animals along them - and it was more fun this way.

Dragon moved a branch from his way and crunched just enough so that he got under it and continued along. He passed few rivers and slopes before he saw a bear drinking from a pond and stopped in his tracks. Luckily there were bushes between them and Dragon managed to get behind one quietly before the animal noticed his presence.

After observing the bear for a while, Dragon concluded that it was a male. It was the start of summer so he had to tread carefully, in case the male was old enough to mate meaning it would be more aggressive than usually. Dragon drew four quiet breaths, counted his time and watched the bear until attacking.

Taking the animal down wasn't a tough nor easy job. It was something in between. It came to light that the male was not old enough to mate which meant it was not as big as the usual bears Dragon had fought but aggressive it was. It took about ten minutes to get the animal on the ground without killing it.

No, Dragon did not kill the animals he fought and won against. It felt kind of… wrong to kill them. He was, after all, the one who attacked first, not the other way around. Of course, Dragon lived alone, and couldn't really cook and naturally he needed food, so exceptions existed.

After taking the bear down Dragon made sure that it wasn't hurt in any major way and washed his face. God, it was hot.

Getting up Dragon moved away from the pond and continued his trip. Gradually the ground got steeper until he turned left and came to the edge of the cliff that opened a view to the Grey Terminal.

Dragon moved to the side and slid down the hillside.

The stench was nauseating.

But Dragon endured.

It took a good fifteen minutes to reach even a sight of a living person from the hillside towards the centre of the Terminal. The place was vast and what its name said - grey. This was caused partly because of the steaming fog everywhere and partly because of all the broken pipes and ladders and trash cans and pots and plates and pans and, anything grey, really. Hell, you could even find broken metal parts (and some not so broken) of den den mushis' receivers if you just knew what to look for.

The first person Dragon saw was luckily Jacky Wall. Wall was one of those better people in the Terminal and one of the few who actually still had stories to tell. He was slightly bitter and junky old man but genuinely of goodwill despite the first obtrusive impression most people had of him. It was said he had been a noble once, but alcohol had got the best of him and so his parents (as he never got actually married after his fiancé saw the man he was and the woman's family broke the contract) disowned him. After some nights of loitering around he was thrown into the Terminal by the police.

In the years following the sudden change of life conditions, Wall had got rather… cracked. He had literally once cut his own leg off under the knee after 'six pigeons and a shark had had their way with him' and had a wooden leg to at least partway prove it. His descriptions in his stories… often lacked common sense, and his eyes flickered sometimes to weird directions distracting Dragon from the story he was telling. Regardless of his odd wobbling when walking caused by his amputated leg, he did not use a cane. Dragon had once asked why he didn't hone the wooden stick so that it matched better his height, and the old man had noted how Dragon was in need of fashion sense.

Dragon approached the old man and greeted him. Wall twitched, then stiffened before unstiffening and cautiously turned at him. His blue-grey hair a mess and green eyes flapping sheepishly a moment, the ex-noble observed Dragon from toe to head before grinning indiscreetly.

"Ah, rube boy! Learn how to greet a man without startling them!" Wall scolded childishly.

"You say that every time. The problem's not on me but on you." Dragon retorted monotonously.

"…And no basic understanding of human emotions." Wall muttered as he dropped his gaze to wander around the ground and turned back the way he was facing earlier. Dragon squinted his eyes but made no further comment on the matter and walked next to Wall while searching whatever the man was looking at.

A large mass of people (or at least large in the Terminal's citizen's scale) was clustered around something some yards away. Dragon raised his eyebrow and looked up at Wall questioningly. The old man made no notion of noticing him and just fluttered a stray in his mouth, and so Dragon looked back at the group.

They observed the happening quietly, Dragon with interrogative interest, Wall with a bored expression on his face that occasionally changed into a less than amused one. The group shifted and hassled and bustled until a slight peek was offered for Dragon to see beyond the people and on the thing that they made so much fuss about.

But it really was only a slight crack. The sole thing that Dragon managed to register from the chance was something greyish brown. The fussing continued and some people started raising their voices a pitch too high for others' liking until Dragon and Wall had a shouting contest to watch at hand.

This continued about five minutes (after about a minute and half Dragon started looking elsewhere) until finally Wall commented.

"Apparently they found an old cash register," he said to answer the mute question Dragon had raised earlier. Dragon clicked his gaze back to the group.

"What do you mean by old?" He asked.

"Old. You know, the old kind. From the last decade. Or something. Me don't know." Wall answered as if that solved everything. Dragon would have fished more information but knew better than that to try to get it from Wall of all people.

So after a comfortable half a minute had passed, Dragon noted monotonously.

"If it's just a cash register, then why are they making such a fuss about it?" It wasn't exactly voiced in an asking manner.

"Don't ask me," Wall noted back.

Dragon rolled his eyes and turned his gaze again elsewhere. As ten minutes passed the group of people had turned into a battlefield for no obvious reason. And as six more minutes passed, three new people sauntered into the scene, and upon identifying the faces Dragon tensed. The closer the tall figures hovered, the more anxious Dragon became. Wall took note of this, and after a slow time had passed he prompted.

"Yasen doesn't look like he's in a good mood. It's better if you make haste, rube boy."

Despite the tone he used, Dragon took heed of the old man's warning and began imperceptibly treading away from the area. Too slow, he mentally noted as he heard Yasen's deep voice rumble behind him.

"Look, boys, what we have here! The little runt of that marine bastard has come to pay us a visit," and the others laughed at the remark.

"I think we need to welcome him then," another concluded and others concurred.

Dragon grit his teeth and turned his sneaking into leaping. He _was_ able to get away - there was no impugning that. Nonetheless, the hillside ahead of him would prove to be somewhat of an arduous task. The Terminal was vast, so necessarily Dragon didn't need to get away from there and could presumably hide somewhere within it instead.

With this in mind, Dragon turned to the opposite direction from which the three came from and changed his pace into bare mind-numbing running. The three stayed rigidly behind him and Dragon thanked his luck that day because he did not trip a single time as was so conveniently common when you took a walk in a pile of junk.

So why was a couple of grown ups doing chasing a fourteen year old boy? Surely they had better things to do. Like looking for something to eat - and cannibalism surely was not a cultured thing to do in Goa kingdom. Hell, it wasn't characteristic in any country in East Blue.

A positive year back, Yasen and his men had been picking on Wall and some others. Why? Because they had found some a little more than valuable things that Yasen wanted for himself. Law wasn't valid here in the Terminal and frankly what they did didn't really bother Wall. But it bothered Dragon.

So he had taken care of Yasen's greedy measures by stealing his gathered at the time not-so-well-guarded pricey thingys and during the chase that followed when Yasen had woken up for a reason or another, set the ground of the man's little home on fire. Don't ask how. Dragon couldn't comprehend it either.

When he had got captured Yasen had given him a rather good beating of which surviving Dragon was also rather proud. It was a common fact that Yasen had killed many who crossed him. But it was also beginning to be a common fact that he had a hard time with a brat from Windmill village. Just the thought of that made Dragon grin haughtily.

But it did not slower his legs when running away from Yasen once again. In fact, it only made him go faster. No matter how scornful Dragon was of his miraculous escape from Yasen that year ago, he did not by any means want to go through it again.

Yasen was fairly built man, with blond muggy hair and streak eyes. He was at least twice the size of Dragon, standing around at the same height as his father, and if that wasn't enough, Yasen also was the fastest of the people in the Grey Terminal - or at least of the people who were way less than good. It was his own fault for making enemy out of the man, Dragon was aware of that, but what could he say? Yasen had it coming. Even if anyone didn't laugh openly, the half glances at the blond man's way were more than enough amusing for Dragon.

Yasen picked up speed and when that didn't work he threw a random thing at Dragon. It was pure chance that it didn't hit him and to avoid a failed chance Dragon stepped behind a larger stack of junk. After that there was another pile to Dragon's dismay and when he evaded it his speed slowed down. But if that happened to him then it was harder for Yasen and the two.

Dragon glanced their way. Damn. Of course they hadn't followed him to the stacks but stayed on the clearer path. Now they were almost catching up with him. Damn it to hell.

Well if that's the case then he'd just force them to come.

Dragon turned back towards the hillside and silently muted to himself how he'd manage to get up. There would be a mound just farther away to the left that had a better footing and proper places to catch onto, but it was still good three hundred metres away. During that distance Yasen would catch up enough to get a hold of Dragon's shirt when he climbed. But the hillside ahead of him would be more of a citation as there was no proficient proof that the footing ground wouldn't give away. Unless…

Dragon glanced back. As he had hoped, Yasen had followed after him to the stacks when he had turned towards the hillside. That settled it then, Dragon would head for the mound.

During the turn back towards the way he had been heading to, Dragon lost half way his footing on his right leg and his arm grazed painfully a broken end of a metal panel leaving him to trample in his tracks for a moment. He took support from another stack and used it to pace back up. No way in four seasons was he going to stop even for a moment. At the worst case it could cost him his life. Around this time the sun hid behind the clouds that appeared out of nowhere.

It took a few more seconds to get to the mound and when reaching for the first holding, Dragon began to get out of breath. He raised his leg and felt Yasen's hand graze the helm of his shirt but never properly catch it in his hand during the exertion up. Without sparing a look back, Dragon climbed to the best of his agility, and agility he had. It was pure devil's luck from Yasen's side that the mound actually enabled him too to get up the hill. After mentally realizing this Dragon cursed under his breath and after reaching the top continued running for his dear life again. Why did he not perceive that sooner?

It began to get dark.

Not really noticing the drop of pace in his speed because of his panting, Dragon threw all regard away to the way he was going and just fixated on getting the hell away from Yasen. He didn't even reserve a quick look at the man's way for he knew for a fact that he was still there considering his shouting at Dragon's way.

Dragon ran past every and all that came in his way on the self-made path away from the Terminal. Branches splattered on his face and back every now and then but that didn't falter him. Once one of them pitched close to his eye but he just went on. From the sound of things Yasen was catching up again. Around this time the temperature began to drop.

Dragon scampered on and for a moment entertained an idea of climbing into a tree. He quickly forsook this, though, as he heard Yasen only closer this time. But at this rate he really did need to find some place to hide in. They had already covered a proportionate distance and while both of them were breathing heavily, most likely Dragon was the first to run out of stamina as he was smaller. Still, he did last longer than he used to since this wasn't the first time he had been chased by Yasen. Unfortunately the blond man was improving too.

He did not know if the other two were still with them, nor did he frankly care, such was the situation he was in. But the occasionally occurring additional stamps here and snap there might have told him that they were. Also, if he had paid closer attention to his surroundings he would have noticed how far from Windmill village he was, and how close the mountain path was.

Suddenly the voices behind him stopped, and the constant snapping of branches higher than Dragon came to a halt. He did not realize this at first and merely continued leaping and running away. When he did notice he finally allowed himself to look behind him and slowly stopped.

Surprisingly, Yasen had given up, and only now did Dragon detect his rapid heart beat and incessant panting. Trying to calm his breathing down, Dragon leant to his legs and when the world started slightly spinning let himself fall back first on the ground with a thump. Staring up to the now grey sky, everything that was wavering calmed down and so did gradually his breathing too after few minutes. When his heart beat was back to normal he began laughing hard.

At first, that year ago, every time Yasen had chased him Dragon had to hide in the end. This had continued throughout the last year and on to this year's side too.

Today was the first time Yasen actually gave up without having to look for Dragon.

His laughter continued surging and uncontrollable as if he was genuinely happy. Then it began to rain and the laughter died.

It became all quiet except for the splatter the rain made. It was the straight kind of rain, and there was a lot of it pouring down hard onto the ground. The leaves gave in quite easily as if obeying a demand, and a moment it seemed there was nothing beside the rain in the world.

Such foolishness it all. Day in, day out the same routine. Every street was the same, every rock and tree, a river and a pond. All stayed the same most of the time, and the only alteration that happened was seen after tens of years of time. And time was not something that humans had. Animals had it. Insects had it. Even ground had it. But not humans. Humans had a routine, a profession. They adapted to their environment and found the best solution for their income of money. They agreed to most of things because it was easy. Even if not all thought the means justified the outcome, they still kept quiet about it. The peace that the kingdom in which Dragon lived felt so fake it was almost surreal.

Of course he did not know if the feeling he had had any truth to it. He didn't understand completely all the politics, and he didn't even know what was going on in the world, only what he heard frequently from the adults at nights at the bar.

But it all felt like it was true - considering how he was treated. He never understood the reason. His father was liked in the village. Hell, he was somewhat respected even in the marines because of his position as a captain. But Dragon didn't have any friends. The parents of the village warned their children to stay away from him. He was bullied, but it wasn't anything he couldn't handle.

The biggest problem were the adults. Or more accurately, the things they said when they thought no one heard them talking about it. Dragon was certain his father knew about it. But he had never been home longer than a month so it was hard to tell if he had talked about it with the people of the village. Nothing changed the facts though - Dragon was alone.

No matter who he knew from the Grey Terminal, they were not his friends. Dragon didn't even like to call them his acquaintances. They were more of an unsorted kind falling somewhere between a stranger and a person-I-met-once. And they were all pretty much older than him. Sure, there were some fifteen to sixteen year olds in the Terminal, but Dragon didn't feel like they were the kind of company he would want to befriend.

Another reason why he didn't have friends was his inability to express himself properly. His way of thought… was a bit weird, he admitted.

When most people saw a tree, they would simply note that it was a tree and maybe muse a moment what species it was. But Dragon would start to wonder how old it was, what kind of days it had seen and from what compass point the wind that carried it to its place came from. Every time it was talked about more theoretical things, everything sounded rational in his mind but when he opened his mouth to voice his thoughts the first part of his answer sounded odd, second he screwed up and the third he forgot. He would often climb up a tree and scope around for birds on branches and then ponder why they stopped there of all places when they could go anywhere. He wondered what clouds were. How they felt like. He had spent hours observing fishes on the banks just to learn to identify the individuals.

He listened to the adults in the bar often nights from a nearby tree to recognize their characteristic way of talking and laughing. Sometimes he heard crying too, and gathered from it that even grown ups shed tears. Everyone had it tough. But the association of a society gave all individuals strength and comfort that no one was alone.

 _Pathetic._

That one word echoed in his mind like a tennis ball. Like the pouring rain.

It hurt, that much was certain. Sometimes at the late hours of night it crushed. Oftentimes it merely numbed.

But he didn't hold anything against anyone. He told himself not to. Why, he didn't know. All he could grasp from his way of thought was that once he did blame it on someone, there was no going back. And the unknown was scary to him. The comfort of the present moment, no matter how much he obliviously suffered, was much more safe to him than taking the next step. Pathetic, it indeed was. But he didn't know how to not do it like that. So all he could do to lame the strain was to cry.

* * *

Half an hour later the rain began to cease. It did still continue in dispersed and cautious triplets as if asking for permission, but the worse of it was gone. The grey atmosphere stayed, but was soon cracked by something fierce when a pissed off yell startled Dragon from his blissful dryness of mental musings.

"Oi, whaddya doing to my carrots, brat?!"

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 **There! The first chapter is here. Some notes, though. "Astrocaryum jauari" is an actual tree. Google it. About the Grey Terminal - it says in One Piece wikia that the correct English translation is Gray Terminal - but I guess that's the American version since in my manga volume it says Grey Terminal and I'm from Europe. So went with that one. (Also it looks better to me.)**

 **I also want to comment that Dragon will have a rather big character development in this fic. And there's actually not that much Luffy's mother - she will appear somewhere at the start (though, not likely in the first three chapters) and then she'll be in more towards the end but there will be a long gap between them where Dragon meets other people. And I mean a lot of other people. Just so that no one starts to ponder about when she'll appear.**

 **And no matter how few will read or review or like this, I will continue with it to the end. The whole idea has been in my head for three years already so I want to get it written.**

 **This chapter was a bit of a long one. Don't know why, don't know how that happened but it did. I myself like reading long chapters more but I've heard that not all do so I apologize to those. The chapters will be differing in length and I cannot guarantee how long approximately each will be.**

 **Featuring artwork of this fic has been posted on my tumblr. The link in my profile.**

 **The one who figures out whose carrots were mistreated (destroyed) gets a cookie.**


	3. Chapter 2: Curly Dadan

**Disclaimer: I do not own One Piece or its characters. My own OCs and the plot in this one, though, I do own. Everything else belongs to Eiichiro Oda.**

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Chapter Two  
 _Curly Dadan_

It was the feeling you got when the alarm clock woke you abruptly up in the middle of a peaceful dream. It was the jump you experienced when you ran at full speed without looking ahead and you realized just a moment too late that the road sloped downward from there on. It was the rewind of the flashback that ran through your brain as you gradually took regard of the place you've wandered into. It was the frightening slow-motion of the stunning epiphany that you were in a deep shit.

It was the spiraling autumn leaves and the curvy mountain lake.

It was the moment you met Curly Dadan.

Dragon sat up, glanced behind him to the ground he had been laying on and snapped his head back forward and up at the orange haired woman stomping on the muddy ground and menacingly approaching him. He quickly became aware of the broken carrot under his hand and the closer the woman got, the more Dragon sweated.

Dadan was what you could call a typical mountain bandit - strong built with an irksome face. She was surprisingly tall and had an orange, half dreadlocks, half normal hair that she wore in a lazy ponytail. She was dressed simply, with the sole ornament being a red beaded necklace coming from under her collar. Her face was that of a woman, but her demeanor was that of a man, especially (only) when conversed on about her walking style. Her voice had been scratchy and pitchy with a hint of a tarry. A couple of Dadan family's members stamped a cigarette that had fallen from Dadan's mouth before or after she began marching towards Dragon.

She looked pissed off.

Dragon swallowed conveniently considering the situation but couldn't move. Everyone, even the children of Windmill village knew the name of Curly Dadan. Her mountain bandit family was the reason why the parents in the village ordered their children not to venture too far into the forest. The saying 'careful or Dadan comes and beats you up' had formed into a pun among the youngsters. And where there was a story, there was always some truth behind it.

 _Move,_ Dragon cited, _it's just a bandit, move!_

His leg twitched but wouldn't move more. Dragon cursed and mentally kicked himself for being a closet coward. That didn't help much, as Curly Dadan already hovered above him.

"You brat," she spat through her teeth, "Get the fuck up."

And before Dragon could react, Dadan grabbed his collar and surprisingly effortlessly hoisted him up from the ground with one swift jerk. While hanging in the air, Dragon felt way too much sympathy for a rag doll for his liking. He carefully met the woman's gaze and it was everything as ugly as he thought it would be.

Dadan's eyebrow twitched. "What's that face for, rat?"

Was he making a face? Here he thought he was pretty terrified. Dadan made a spitting gesture and threw Dragon to the ground, far from her precious carrots. At this the other members of the Dadan family reached them.

"It's just a kid, boss, take it a little easy," the first, tall - taller than Dadan - and a chicken-look-alike cautiously noted. Dadan huffed.

"If he was in the woods around the time it rained there's a chance he didn't know where he was going," the second, short one (really, ridiculously short compared to the other two) suggested. Dadan scoffed.

" _If_ he had been in the woods during the rain he would have known better than to wander around here," she spat. Dragon didn't know where his cowardice went and why he found the scene somewhat amusing.

"So what now?" the short one intrigued. Dadan eyed Dragon with squinted eyes threateningly. Dragon stared back blankly.

"The brat may compensate for the perdition he's accomplished." It sounded more of a threat than a demand. Dragon held back a grin for no patent reason. Although compensating… not his peculiarity. But he guessed he had to do it even so, as responsibility he at least had.

"How?" He importuned with a half smile that was closer to a grin. The three turned at him. Dadan raised her other brow.

"By doing labour, of course," she said as if she was telling a kid to walk. And Dragon wanted to beat his head to the ground. Anything but labour. Doing normal stuff with normal tools, no way in hell.

He forced himself to smile. "And if I decline?"

"A kid shouldn't know a word like that," Dadan spat.

"An adult should be more polite than that," Dragon answered. The two shared a quiet I'm-gonna-kick-you look.

"Being a bandit," Dadan hissed down at Dragon, "means you are _not_ polite."

"Well, sue you," Dragon countered, "your code is an ass. Respect other human beings, you low slack." That… probably went too far. Since it started this:

"You little brat, you respect your seniors."

"You, senior? Actually describes you pretty well, hag."

"Damned rat, you'll burn."

"Not by your fire, at least, I mean, how do you walk around with that muzzle?"

"Dare to say that again you pipsqueak."

"I dare, and dare thrice."

"I'll skin you, runt."

And this:

"Call me a half skinned mandarin chicken one more time, trash."

"Half skinned mandarin chicken."

"That's it, I'll fry you."

And - well, a lot more. The ranting of the two went on for quite a while and at the end of it they were literally at each others' necks and the two Dadan family's members had to rip them apart before they strangled each other.

Later Dadan and Dragon had sorted their argument in what was possibly called the closest to a peaceful manner, and Dragon had been forced to do labour. It didn't mean that he was going to do it willingly though, and would use every and any chance he could to get away. Few times he nearly managed, before one of the bandits saw him and he was dragged back again.

It was initially wrong to put a kid to work for a bunch of grown ups, that was certain. But in the bandits' world it was everyone for themselves, Dadan had explained. And so Dragon was left to mop the floor. Who idiot ruined others' carrot farms by accident? And why were carrots _so_ important that one needed to _mop the freaking floor?_ Dragon swore, one day, somehow, Dadan would pay dearly for this.

The swaying of the mop in his hands grew faster and faster in his frustration until he let out a hiss as the scratch he had got while running away from Yasen finally made itself known. The mop dropped and Dragon took a good look at the wound.

There was blood, that much was certain. But most of it was dried and what was still fresh didn't come in floods so it was pretty much okay by that part. It was the actual wound that proved to be worrisome.

The cut wasn't that deep, really, but it had got muddy and that was the alarming part. He should get it cleansed before it got inflamed. If it wasn't already.

Dragon looked over the room for signs of people. Apparently the one who had been charged with looking after him had just stepped outside or into another room, but the fact remained that he wasn't there at the moment. Fine, Dragon would find the medical supplies himself. He had seen wounds of this size being treated before in the village so he knew the basic concept of what he needed to do.

After rummaging through drawers for a while, Dragon found what he was looking for. He took the box containing the medical supplies to the centre of the room and moved a bottle full of water next to himself and the box. He cleansed the wound with the water and pressed the sides together. After that he closed the wound and wrapped bandage around it.

Following this Dragon just sat there looking at the bandage and cursing his luck.

While it was great that he had got away from Yasen, it was also humiliating that he only now realized why that was. The Dadan family. They were infamous even among the people in the Terminal and its denizens invariably evaded the family's territory. That's why Yasen had stopped the chase - they had reached the border of the mountain bandits' domain. Dragon had never before met any of the bandits and hadn't planned to either. He had always been careful not to get too close to this part of Mt Corvo, yet here he was, mopping the ruddy bandits' floor. Such luck, such pain.

Sighing, Dragon got up and put the medical box back to its place. When he reached back to the mop, his babysitter appeared back into the room and grudgingly Dragon proceeded on his mopping.

Although, the bandits didn't seem to be that bad people. They could have beaten Dragon up, just for stepping on their territory. They could have done, well, anything really to him but they had done none. Doing labour was way better than getting killed, Dragon admitted. So maybe these people weren't as evil as the rumours said. Still, it was too early to fully judge.

After twenty minutes had passed and Dragon had been tasked to do the laundry outside since the rain had stopped completely half an hour ago and the sun had come back up, the short bandit from his and Dadan's meeting, Dogra as Dragon had heard he was called, came to offer snacks to his babysitter. During this the man glanced at the snappy Dragon's way and after observing him incredulously for a while, noted.

"Come to think of it, what's your name, kid?"

Dragon turned at the bandit with an annoyed expression. "Dragon," he answered nonetheless, fizzing.

There was a moment of pause.

"You don't look like one," Dogra commented unimpressed. A vein popped in Dragon's forehead.

"Leave me alone, will you?!"

Then Dogra began as if remembering something. "Though it feels as if I've heard that somewhere…"

Dragon turned back to the laundry and proceeded on his task ignoring the bandit's musings.

A short while passed, and the snacks dwindled. Dogra still remained in remembrance when a dead alligator was put down with a thump a little farther away from them and Dadan loitered above the body as if victorious if not for her foul mood and the menacing axe. Dragon guessed that if he did one wrong move or said one wrong word, that same axe would be sticking out of his back. The tall bandit from before, Magra, came to check out what was happening and quickly announced to the others that they were having alligator meat that day. Dadan herself lighted a cigarette and glanced irritated at Dragon's way. Dragon averted the gaze and went back to his work.

Then Dogra let out a terrified sound that sounded more like a dove being strangled than anything else, and lost his footing. On the ground he backed all the way to next to Dadan so that a dirt cloud breathed itself into the air, and with a quivering hand pointing at Dragon, said.

"B-boss… this boy's name is D-dragon…"

Dragon rolled his eyes, now that was a slow reaction. Dadan quirked her eyebrow and moved her gaze from the bandit to Dragon as a moment passed with everyone's brains processing the information.

Until realization dawned upon them.

" _This_ is Dragon?" Dadan scoffed. Dogra managed to somehow nod between his shaking. Dadan traversed to Dragon and observed him with a skeptical eye.

"You mean to tell me that _this_ little runt is the monster of Windmill village?" She said almost mockingly. Dragon tensed. There it was, that word.

"Oi, oi, you must be kidding right? There's no way that the rumours are actually true." One of the bandits said. Some of them nodded in agreement.

"Yea, they're just superstition to scare the bandits away from there."

Dadan kept her skeptical eye on Dragon.

"One must be an idiot to actually believe them." One bandit still continued.

"What's your name, really?" Dadan asked. Dragon looked at her, all the amusement from before gone.

"I already said it. Dragon."

"Oh come on, you can't be seriously expecting us to believe that?" Dadan crossed her arms triumphantly. Dragon moved his gaze away and slowly continued his work.

"I don't expect that. It doesn't really matter anyway."

Dadan watched him a while after the conversation ended, even after she had gone on to do her own work. It was slightly unnerving, but Dragon couldn't blame her. After the laundry, he had been told to skin the alligator and after that to fetch some fresh water. An hour later was dinner and Dadan was actually gracious enough to let Dragon in on it.

* * *

 **Two hours later, at sundown,  
Windmill village**

A tall and robust figure was at a standstill in front of an unenlightened house. A window or two were broken and one could virtually see the farrago inside from where the figure stood. The grass was untended, the well's handle broken. There were questionable streaks on the ground and the whole picture practically defined the definition of a haunted house.

A bag dropped to the ground and one sole word echoed throughout the cool evening air - Dragon.

* * *

 **So the second chapter is here. I would have uploaded yesterday if FFN wouldn't have gone through maintenance. This chapter seems to be a short one - and exactly the length that I myself don't like reading. Irony. But I found out that there really wasn't anything else for me to write into this chapter since it's basically just Dragon meeting Dadan. Oh, their chemistry is exploding. So fabulous. Yes, they don't really get along. That much. At first.  
**

 **I'm glad and thankful that I got three followers just from my first chapter and prologue - you're amazing! It'd still be great to get one or two reviews but I guess I can do without them.  
**

 **I... most likely suck at attempting to make some scenes funny. Sorry about that.**

 **I'm also already sketching some scenes in my notebook that'll be in the later chapters - I just can't wait to get there!**

 **So there probably isn't anything else to say about this chapter. I've already started the third one, don't know when it'll be up though. (I have my final exams coming up.) I also noticed some mistakes in the prologue and the first chapter so I'll be getting to those once I have the time and brains.  
**

 **It's probably pretty easy to guess who arrived into Windmill village.**


	4. Chapter 3: Monkey Family

**Oh, boy. This one took a long time to finish. Had a small writer's block. But it was solved thanks to manicherryblossom33 and their amazing fic about Dragon! Keep it up! Getting an alert to my email about a new chapter of A World of Difference always reminds me and gets me to write more of my own fic. Many thanks and wellbeings! If someone following this (and is not already) is interested about other fics about Dragon, they should definitely go check that one out!**

 **That said, more notes at the end of the chapter.**

 **Disclaimer:** **I do not own One Piece or its characters. My own OCs and the plot in this one, though, I do own. Everything else belongs to Eiichiro Oda.**

* * *

Chapter Three  
 _Monkey Family_

 **The next day,  
Mt Corvo,  
Mountain bandit's house**

"So," Dadan began into the silence, "is it true that the weather revolves weirdly around you?"

No matter what it was, being the polishing of shoes, mute cursing or scratching behind his ear, everything Dragon did halted. He glanced slowly at the loitering Dadan sitting in the forenoon air sipping tea oh-so-coolly and stared at the woman for an expletive two minutes before answering.

"…No?" He wasn't really sure himself. True, there admittedly had been some odd sequences involving him and the weather, but he always convinced himself that they were nothing more than coincidences.

He wasn't so sure anymore though.

The incident with Yasen the year ago had actually involved lightning - it was a thunderbolt, no matter how Dragon wriggled around and denied it, that set the ground ablaze. Oftentimes Dragon felt like the weather sympathized with his moods, especially when he was feeling down.

But realistically it was not possible.

Weather did not bend to one's will or needs. It had no person nor character so it could not think. It was wild, raw, free, unpredictable. It did not die nor live, it just was. It was a goddamn force of nature, for goodness sake. And by no means did a mere human mind comprehend it, let alone control it. It just wasn't done.

But the so called coincidences were way too comfortable and frequent. The rain helped to hide the fears. The sun felt great with a content mind. Thunder strengthened the rage and justified it. Of course this didn't happen always according to his moods, so there was that also.

Still, the only case when anything incomprehensible was comprehensible that Dragon had heard of was in the case of the devil fruits. And Dragon was fairly certain he had not eaten one by accident. Mostly because they only supposedly grew in the Grand Line (if existed at all).

Besides, a devil fruit that could control the weather? What the hell even was that? That would compromise the whole bloody laws of nature. The mere context of the devil fruits was already incoherent enough, and sounded like a bunch of gibberish to make the stories more entertaining.

"…Why?" Dragon cautiously asked. Dadan merely huffed her shoulders and faced back to the newspaper in her hands. "Was just curious." She explained as if nonchalantly. Dragon kept looking at her with a blank expression. She was not fooling anyone but there was no way that Curly Dadan believed the stories that were told about a little boy and the overly convenient weather that followed him. About the odd, lonely kid who was called a monster. Dragon wouldn't have believed them either. So there was no way that a-

How old was Dadan again? She didn't look that old, but then again the most people were old compared to Dragon. But she wasn't completely young either and she was tall. Like really tall. When they had tried to strangle each other Dragon had had to wait until Dadan took her grip and only after that take his. Her constant frown also clouded Dragon's judgement of her age, and before he could process it, he had already popped the question.

"How old are you?" The worse part of the act was that he hadn't removed his gaze from her after inquiring why Dadan wanted to know about the weather and him.

Dadan flickered her gaze back at Dragon, and quite annoyed answered.

"What's it to you?" She spat. Dragon immediately regretted the question. But since he had already asked he could as well get the answer.

"Well, here I was thinking that considering your voice it could be like thirty but including the face it could be more." He huffed his shoulders. "Kind of in a pinch here, thought maybe you would want to enlighten me."

Dadan had pretty much snapped by the word thirty.

"You little rat, I'll fillet you!" She hissed. But then she miraculously calmed down and said. "It's nineteen, you pipsqueak. Now do your work."

Nineteen, huh? That was only five years older than Dragon.

Before he could get his thought to the end, though, Dadan and Dragon heard a smothered cry from the forest. Both of them froze and glanced towards the sound not seeing anything other than trees and bushes in a while. Then, a sole bandit ran to them panting and utterly terrified to the core. His speech was rabid gibberish and unfathomable even for the most professional linguist. Dragon and Dadan both raised their eyebrows and glanced at each other.

It didn't take long for a dozen more bandits to emerge sprinting out of the forest, some beat up, some less. This was all it took for Dadan to get up, take her axe and start the first menacing steps towards the woods. Dragon glanced at one of the beat up bandits closer, and his face paled when he recognized the customary places of the bruises. He began to warn Dadan but his sentence was cut short when a loud, uncontrolled and echoing voice resounded throughout the area.

"DRAGOOOON!" Dragon could have identified the voice even through his sleep.

All regard for warning the mountain bandit boss was thrown away as Dragon took the safest measure he could come up with at the moment - he ran. But it was already futile as his escape attempt was disrupted by a large fist that smacked him face first to the ground. The Dadan family watched in horror, Dragon didn't even have time to hex.

After the dust cloud had cleared, that same voice thundered above him.

"I do not approve of this, Dragon. First you let the house get into that state and now you're spending time with outlaws."

Dragon weakly got up nursing his head. "Oh shut up, old man."

A vein popped in the man's forehead and he prepared his fist. "Is that-" the fist came down, "really the first thing you say to your pops?"

Dragon avoided but it wasn't enough as the fist greeted his head nevertheless, and Dragon was brought back down on to his buttocks. The Dadan family had a hard time processing what was going on, standing utterly at a loss in the background.

Dragon held his growing lump and looked up at the figure. In front of him stood proudly the marine captain, Garp the Fist, his father. He was dressed in a violet tropical shirt and simple black pants and he had apparently began properly growing a beard recently, Dragon noted.

"I really should have persuaded Woop Slap to look after you," Garp continued his retort. Dragon felt annoyed.

"Hmph, like that'd ever work," he muttered.

A vein hardened in Garp's forehead. "It'd work, if we made it work."

Dragon looked away unamused. Garp's temper flared but he withstood it. "What are you doing here, anyway?" He said, looking around.

"Oh, you know, _nothing_ ," Dragon looked side ways at his father. You could practically see the red dots in Garp's eyes. Thankfully Dadan interrupted them before hell broke loose.

"Um… What's exactly going on here…?" She carefully asked. Garp turned at her way.

"And who're you?" He replied.

Dadan grinned. "Curly Dadan," she said in triumph and puffed up her chest. Dragon wanted to slap himself.

There was silence.

"Who?" Garp then questioned.

"OI," everyone else retorted pissed off and ready to bite. Garp turned back at Dragon who still sat on the ground.

"Anyway, we're going home," he concluded and grabbed Dragon from his collar and headed towards Windmill village ignoring his son's protests and wriggles.

It felt like this was a perennial thing already. Every time Dragon's father came back home for a holiday he would seek Dragon out, punch him with a 'Fist of Love', complain about the state of the house and drag him back home. The phenomenon was already past the point of being funny, now it was merely a routine. Well, at least Dragon knew when Garp would stay home longer.

Monkey D. Garp was tall and muscular man. He had broad shoulders and short black hair, and a circular scar over his left eye that he had had as long as Dragon could remember. He had also been in the marines as long as Dragon could remember - it appeared that he had joined them way before Dragon had been even born. That's where he had met Dragon's mother too as she had been a cook in the marines.

Garp had always been workaholic, not in the bad way, of course, as he was pretty laid-back after all, but he still had this unfathomable determination to catch criminals. That's where he had been when his wife had died - capturing some pirate. It wasn't that he didn't care - Dragon was aware of it - but there were things one just couldn't change after the decision had been made. And those would always stay with you, no matter how much you hoped for them to go away. And ignoring a fact like that was near impossible, especially if something as serious as death was in question.

But Dragon did care for his father, of course, and who wouldn't have? It was hard to earnestly hate a man who acted a lot like a child, was addicted to senbeis, laughed like it was the last day of his life and generally seemed like a total idiot and still cared for people around him in all seriousness. Garp had been an amazing father back when Dragon had been, say, nine years younger (at least judging by what he remembered). But no father-son relationship was ever simple, even though it was supposed to be the simplest thing there is - love between individuals, that is. Or so Dragon had heard, anyway. He had no ground to compare this saying to, so he couldn't know.

Still, Dragon couldn't help but feel exasperated. Sure, he was aware that being a marine was more of a way of life, a duty, than a profession, but no duty should be _so_ important and _so_ incontrovertible that it denied one's rights to seeing and spending time with one's family and friends - one's loved ones. He couldn't appreciate, not to mention relate to, something that excluded something that fundamental in life.

'You're going to become a strong marine,' the old man always cuckooed. Often he did it in an unsustainable and loud voice, most of the time accompanied by a fist. Fuck him and his pretend 'Fist of Love'. The blimey attack wasn't even his own. He had stolen it from Dragon's mother who had used it on Garp every time he had tried to do or did something frivolous. Garp had adopted it from his wife after she had died and had began to use it on Dragon ever since. It hurt. It was annoying. It hurt. It was ridiculously asinine, doing that to one's child. And it hurt. Hurt like hell. Like a load of acerbic rocks dropped from a high cliff, but centralized in one spot. No, ditch that, it was incomprehensible how it was even possible for something, _anything_ to hurt like that.

"I really can't take my eyes off you, now can I," Garp mumbled out loud while still carrying Dragon from his collar despite the fact that they had left the Dadan family's domain a good five minutes ago and had covered a great distance already. Dragon was not impressed.

"Well, now that you have your eyes on me and the determination to keep them so, could you at least put me down and let me walk on my own? It's not like I can get away from you." He said monotonously. Garp stopped walking, hoisted Dragon up in front of him so that he could have a better view on him, and quirked an eyebrow at him.

"I s'pose…" He observed Dragon with a suspicious eye for a lingering moment until he let the boy down. Once on his own two feet Dragon straightened his clothes and puffed the dirt from his pants. He then stretched his shoulders and at this Garp raised an eyebrow. But by the time he caught on to his son's intentions, the boy had already sprinted away to a horizontal direction from him like a bazooka, leaving only a cloud of dust in his place. A vein yet again popped in the older man's forehead and he leapt after his son. Why did that brat never learn?

The chase wasn't a long one, as one might guess. The sole thing that made it any sort of chase was Dragon's honed reflexes that allowed him to shiftily move amongst the trees and bushes, ever so triflingly longer than the last time. It didn't change the outcome though, and soon he was back on his face on the ground.

"Punk, how many times do you have to try?" Garp's brow twitched and his voice shook as he struggled to hold back his riled state.

"As many as I have breaths," Dragon answered dryly, his voice muffled against the soil.

"Right." Garp said, dryly likewise. Dragon moved his head to a side so that he could have at least a partway look at his father, and partly because the mould didn't taste so sweet. He grinned.

"Watch it, one of these days I'll be able to get away."

Garp looked back at him blankly sheer three seconds before smirking. "Right." He repeated. "But keep in mind to do so _after_ you become a great marine."

Dragon let out a tch, moved his eyes to the ground and scrunched his brow, all in the kind of dawdling motion that would have earned handshakes from every house spouse ever. Garp gritted his teeth, squinted his eyes down at Dragon so that they almost resembled one fourth of a watermelon in shape and took an intake of breath through his nose in preparation to give his son a good old earful, but initially settled for a quick fist on the boy's head.

It took still half an hour for the parent and child to reach their terrain of home. Dragon didn't object for the rest of the journey, as he knew it was futile (but it never hurt - _much_ \- to try). They went straight inside, ate whatever Garp had prepared and Dragon commented on his father's poor cooking skills with his grimace. Surprisingly this did not merit him a smack to the head as the older man simply huffed.

Afterwards they sat at the dinner table, Garp finishing his plate, Dragon drinking the last of his water when the marine spoke up.

"You're going to clean up the mess in the house, you know."

Dragon raised his look at the man, half-wondering if he was joking. "No I'm not," he then said. "You can't make me do it all by myself."

"You did cause it." Garp answered his mouth nearly full. "It'll be a good chance to learn some sense of responsibility."

Dragon's eyebrow twitched. _He_ of all people dared to say that. But he resolved not to pry on the matter as it'd only end with a fist. Instead. "First of all," he began. "Not all of it has been caused by me. Second, I have a sense of responsibility, more than you'd think in fact."

"Oh shush it, you sound like a spoiled brat." Garp muffled through his mouth full.

Dragon rolled his eyes. "That's more of an insult to you than to me, you know."

Garp raised his look at his son irritated. He just finished his food. "Doesn't change anything," he said, wiping his mouth eyes closed. "You're still going to clean the house up." Garp looked at Dragon but the boy had disappeared. He didn't have to look long, though, as he soon heard and saw him window open, half of his torso out of it, shouting, "Hooooooooi madam, call the child protection, this old man's making me slave away at the house!"

Garp's eyebrow went overdrive with twitching. "AS IF THERE EVEN WAS ANYONE THERE, IDIOT!"

Dragon grinned at him. "But it got your attention, didn't it?"

The marine captain snarled. From the way he pouted Dragon knew he had won. "Fine," Garp said getting up. "I'll help." Now that was a good enough scenario that Dragon could cope with.

The next five and half hours the Monkey family's remaining two members tented to the house. They mowed the lawn, repaired the windows, tidied up the inside, repaired the well's handle and well, a lot of other things. At the end of the time limit there was still a lot to do but distinctly less than before. With this in mind they went to the bath and washed themselves. Separately, of course, although it took promises of many different kind of flavors of senbeis to convince Garp.

After they had dryed themselves and had got dressed again, Garp dragged Dragon down to the town with him. Their house was located outside the town, close to the forest on a large slope so it took about five to seven minutes to walk from there to the village. It was clearly afternoon, with the dimmed orange sunlight roofing over Windmill village. The sight looked stunning coming downward from the slope. There were great things about this place, Dragon muted. But something was amiss, and it showed. Maybe someday he would figure out what.

As they descended and neared the village, first glimpses of people were coming to their view. Those who noticed them waved at Garp and welcomed him back home and asked this and that. Garp answered in passing, not really bothering for long sentences. Those who noticed Dragon, well, they ignored him, although some looked at him longer than the others. Dragon didn't register their expressions though, as he kept his attention on the ground.

He never liked walking on the street everyone used. It made him feel as if he was exposed. There were too many people hustling about around and too much noise. He much preferred the side paths, and trees, and rooftops. Those were what he regularly used, there he could stay hidden. Never, ever the street. Even as they walked on, and he took a step, and another, it felt so weird. As if it wasn't… right.

Garp came to a halt and turned and Dragon raised his gaze from the ground confused as there weren't any side streets there so why would he-

Oh. They had come to the bar. Garp peeked inside and shouted for the major. Dragon didn't register this completely either, as he turned his gaze at the sea that was visible from where he stood. It seemed to be calm. It also seemed nice.

Then the major's mumbling about every last one country boy with no manners caught Dragon's attention back at the bar and his father who now stood sideways at him, arms crossed and apparently waiting for the elder man.

"What in the god's pants do you want, Garp?" Woop Slap stepped out and into the afternoon air, facing the marine. He had scrawny build with short black hair, the start of a beard and an irk face. He held himself with defiance, as if he was expecting for Garp to say something absurd and was preparing to attack back (although it looked ridiculous, considering how much taller Garp was). Dragon didn't particularly dislike the man.

Garp wasn't intimidated in the least. "This is something not to discuss out in the open. Mind if we go to your house?" Woop Slap huffed but concurred still. The walk to the major's house wasn't a long one, and so they found themselves inside the small home in no time. It was here that Woop Slap seemed to notice Dragon's presence.

"What's he doing here?" He asked eyeing Dragon. "You're not gonna propose something idiotic again, are you, Garp?" He turned his attention to the marine. Who smirked.

"Why, don't make it sound so bad. It's just a little suggestion."

"No, no and no." Woop Slap began pushing Garp out the house. Garp insisted on staying. "Garp you know I won't have anything to do with him. He's more of a handful than you ever was." Dragon watched the happening amused.

"Oh, come now." Garp turned around, resulting in Woop Slap losing his balance for a moment. "I wasn't that much of a handful. I took care of myself on my own. You had no extra baggage, whatsoever." Garp crossed his arms. "Dragon's even less so. All you have to do is check on him once in a while, so that he doesn't do anything stupid. Or burn the house down." After a moment of contemplating his own words, he added. "Or worse." Oh, now Dragon was merely hurt.

Woop Slap shook his head violently. "No, no, no. Not in a million years. You Monkeys only get worse with each generation. You should look after your own."

"You know that being a marine I can't be here all the time." Garp countered, feigning hurt.

"Well, you should have thought about that before you brought Deliya here." Woop Slap said dryly. There was a whist of cool air between the two men, and Dragon lowered his gaze. The atmosphere felt heavy, painfully so, and no one moved.

Until Woop Slap broke it. "Sorry, that was out of line." Dragon quirked his eyes at the men. Garp sighed. "That's fine-"

"And if you so insist, I'll look after him just this once. But you'll owe me one." Woop Slap continued. Garp raised his eyebrow. Dragon awoke from his silent state, realizing what exactly was happening.

"No! Can't I have a say in this?" The men turned at him, expressionless. "No." Both echoed, and Dragon wanted to rip their heads off.

Not much was discussed after that, Garp and Woop Slap exchanged some words about other things of which Dragon merely caught a mention of some pirate rookie that Garp had began chasing, but it didn't interest Dragon and so he swiftly made his way out of the house. Not much later he found himself on a cliff that faced towards the sea. The afternoon started to really dim now, the sun gradually setting behind the horizon. Dragon sat there, looking at nothing specific since there wasn't much to look at when staring into the open sea in the first place.

Woop Slap keeping an eye on him wasn't that much of a nuisance, anyway. The man seemed not to have the exact same attitude towards Dragon as the rest of the village - he didn't eminently avoid Dragon or anything. His judgement on him appeared to come more from Dragon's heritage, from Garp rather than some spooky tales of a monster. It was still annoying, though, but relieving.

The door of the major's house opened farther away some minutes later, and from the sound of the footsteps Dragon knew his father was nearing him. He stopped few feet away, as if deliberating something, until he closed off the distance between them and sat down beside Dragon. Dragon glanced at the older man from the corner of his eye before settling his attention back at the horizon.

They sat there without saying a word for a placid while. A chill began to set in the air as the sun's warmth gradually gave way for the brisk wind on the sea that started catching pace tardily from the lack of the sun's rays. It still remained warm but not as warm as during the day. On that cliff, at least.

Garp rustled as he moved his leg to a better position. Dragon glanced at his movement and that was enough for Garp to speak.

"Come to think of it… it's been six years now." He said, sounding distant but when Dragon turned at him he was looking back. Dragon let his gaze stay on his father for a moment, searching for some reason for him to bring his mother up now of all times but only finding that the man's demeanor had changed because of whatever they had been talking about with Woop Slap while Dragon wasn't there. It made him want to know now, but didn't dare to ask. Not when the man looked at him with those weird, uncharacteristical eyes.

Dragon curled his stare down, away from Garp, gradually finding himself looking at the sea again. "Guess it has." Was all he uttered.

"I'm probably gonna be even more away from home from now on." Garp said, now not only sounding distant, but also grim. Dragon looked back at him. "This one brat of a pirate had to guts to show off in front of me and got away. I don't really like it when that happens and somehow I'm really feeling like I need to be the one to capture him."

Dragon squinted his eyes. "Oh? He actually got away? You wouldn't start to be rusty, old man?"

Garp squinted his own eyes back at him. "Don't get ahead of yourself, brat. He was pretty strong, all right?" Dragon chuckled. Garp clicked his knuckles. A smack echoed.

After breathing to calm himself down, Garp continued. "No really, I need to capture him. Listening to that old fart Sengoku gives me headache when he keeps boasting about always catching his targets. So I'm not gonna be around much. Sure, if I happen to be near the island, I might stop by."

Dragon nursed his head but nodded in all seriousness. "How long is your holiday this time?"

Garp sighed. "About two weeks. Maybe less if I get a call." Dragon nodded.

"I'm also gonna train you tomorrow." Garp continued. "Your stamina needs more work. And your mind. Can't have a weak willed marine in the house, now can we."

"How many times do I have to-"

"And you need more flesh around your bones." Garp carried on ignoring Dragon's starting protest. "You're still so feeble I could throw you to Loguetown and back." Dragon's brow twitched. But he said nothing as he knew the marine was right, at least partway. How in the world would he throw him back?

"Also," Garp reached in his pocket and Dragon quirked to look for what. To his surprise, Garp took out a small hunting knife, merely the size of two and a half fingers and handed it to Dragon. "Thought you might like it. Makes skinning animals and all easier." Dragon took the knife and turned it around in his hands and pulled the knife from its sheath. It appeared to be handcrafted, beautifully so. The blade was sharp, the wooden handle was painted red. Or the wood itself was that colour, which was actually more liable judging from its shade. The sheath was reddish leather, almost the same hue as the handle. Even though Dragon was nowhere near expert on the matter, he could say it was great work. Expensive work.

"How - where - did you pay for this?" Dragon managed to ask, still keenly eyeing the blade.

"A friend of mine was selling them at the HQ." Garp answered. "The blade's made of sea-prism stone. Won't break. At least not with the jobs you give it. I noticed your old one had been broken, so…" He trailed.

Dragon huffed. "Yeah, last week and not in the best of moments possible." He said dryly. Damn monkey and damn buffalo. Someday…

Dragon woke up from his musings as he realized he hadn't thanked for the knife. He moved his attention to his father and quite awkwardly muttered, looking sideways to the ground. "Uhm, so, thanks, I guess… Didn't think you'd bring me something…" Why'd he actually say that out loud? But it worked, it seemed, as a board grin sprung onto Garp's face. The man locked him in an arm around his shoulder and laughed.

"Don't sound so embarrassed, of course I'll get you something sometimes." And he laughed more. "But you have to work twice as much tomorrow to earn it." Of course. That explains it. Dragon put the knife back to the sheath before the old man managed to get them both hurt.

After Garp released him, Dragon realized some of his hair had found themselves onto his face and moved his hand to remove it from his sight. A silence fell in again, the sun now completely settled away from the view. Dragon glanced behind them to the village, and saw that there was nearly no people at all outside besides them, save for few at the entrance of the bar. Wait a minute. Sea-prism stone?

Dragon turned back at his father. "What's sea-prism stone?" He asked, utterly puzzled. Garp laughed.

"Right, fellows from around this part of the world don't know about it." He scratched his back of the head. "It's…" He then began, but stopped as he realized he didn't actually know how to describe it. "Uhm… well, a certain kind of material that's used for a lot of things in the navy. Like handcuffs, weapons and the like."

Dragon looked at his knife. "So why a blade?"

"As I said, it won't break."

Dragon turned the item in his hand once, then raised his head at the sea. "Sounds rather convenient material then. Why isn't it used more widely?" He turned at his father.

Garp pondered this. "Well… navy just happens to have a lot of it, since it really is convenient. Helps with a lot of things. But it's expensive because of it's… nature. There aren't really many people who know how to formulate it. And it's still being researched so."

Dragon nodded and glanced up at the sky. A moment passed.

"So…" Garp then spoke. "Since when have you began afflicting yourself with the mountain bandits?" Dragon tensed. Then squinted his eyes. "I'm _not_ afflicting myself with them."

"Riiiiight, you were just at their yard by a sheer coincidence. How do you know Curly Dadan?"

"So you do know her. Figures. And no, I don't. Just - there's some circumstances here." Dragon muttered, irritated and looking at the ground as if it all was its fault.

"You do know I'm gonna have to arrest her." Garp said.

"Oh, do that. With pleasure." Dragon answered straight-forward. Garp raised an eyebrow. "Although I doubt they're that bad people." Dragon continued. It was true - they could have treated him much, much, _way_ worse than they had. Sure they did rob people and all. Dragon had seen just this morning few of them coming back from the woods with a handful of things that sure as hell didn't belong to them. But something still told him they weren't really evil. They might've seemed like it, and Dadan sure as hell acted like it. But Dragon was just not buying it.

Garp eyed his son trying to make sense of his reasoning. The mentioned son returned his gaze at the knife. They sat lingering on the cliff and after minutes had passed, they both wondered when was the last time they had acted like this, like father and son.

Days passed, and Garp harshly trained Dragon. Most of the time this mainly involved Dragon getting beaten up and getting covered up in bruises. Garp was indeed right. Dragon needed to built his stamina, agility, speed and particularly his muscles. But slowly, very slowly, he managed to strengthen. All of the training was, of course, merely basics so Dragon didn't have anything real to counter his father with yet. He'd have to get to that in due time.

For some strange reason, Garp ended up _not_ arresting the Dadan family. Dragon wasn't there when the conversation took place - he had met some déjà-vu circumstances that were more risible than anything (and had everything to do with his father), and had found himself getting uncomfortably cozy with a bearded vulture nest way up the mountain than he had ever been. But from what he gathered later on (after somehow managing to get away with his life and the egg that he had been sent to out get and coming down from the mountain), it seemed Garp had somehow managed to blackmail Dadan for whatever motive Dragon couldn't fathom.

At the end of those two weeks, Garp left again and Dragon was alone again. He kept training, exploring, getting picked on, not caring a shit about being picked on and growing up. Woop Slap kept his word and checked on him once in a while and Dragon kept his own word and helped the Dadan family for a few weeks. After that he intermittently butted in to the mountain bandits' mealtimes (just because) and slowly (to his antic horrification) befriended Dadan. Not that he, nor the woman would have ever admitted that out loud.

Months passed and soon it was a new year, and Dragon turned fifteen in the fall. Furthermore, the next spring came and along with it something very, _very_ new.

* * *

 **Ummmm, about the language generally in these starting chapters - please note that Dragon is a teen. Not even fully developed teen. So he keeps cursing a lot. And acts childish. Why he'd let the house get into that state? He doesn't really know. But unconsciously it could have something to do with the fact that he wants to have a good reason to do something and spend time with Garp whenever he's home (and even more unconsciously he might be afraid that they don't have enough in common to do anything else together). Who's the brat of a pirate rookie? I think it's pretty easy to guess.  
**

 **About the rating - it's there for the upcoming chapters. At the start this could be rated T, I know. But I find no reason to put it to T and then change it later when I know it will need to be M. I will put warnings at the start of the chapters when there is, you know, gore or sexual content. (Don't really know if gore is the right word, but aggressive and disturbing violence at least - or, at least I'll try to make it into that. Or something like that.)**

 **And woooow, this one's got over 5500 words, how'd that happen? O_o And this got now four followers (hasn't changed) and two favourites (raised by one). Maybe it's like that because of the slow start? But now I can tell you, as the ending hints, in the next chapter the plot starts. We're still in Dragon's teen years, of course, but two very important characters make their appearance in chapter four. These last three ones have been more of a... starters, introductions.**

 **Anyway, I know I said I can do without reviews - mainly because I don't want to force anyone into it. But you know, I'd still like to know if there's anything right about this fic (laughs). Sure, not much has been really revealed, especially since it's hard to understand the weather thing that was mentioned at the start, mainly because no one in the fic understands it either (yet) so it's hard to make any judgements. Although the two favourites might say otherwise?**

 **Aaarrggghhh, whatever. Next chapter will be up sometime next month. I will humbly try to make the author's notes shorter in the following chapters.  
**


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